A Fine Romance
by JuliaBC
Summary: WDZ. A chance meeting in the plaza puts Diego and Rosarita together again, and this time, who knows what the outcome could be? Part Three in a series. If you haven't read the other two, just know that Rosarita knows that Diego is Zorro.
1. Chapter One

Part Three

Chapter One

* * *

Rosarita didn't mind when they left they left their house in Monterey for the rancho that was miles out of it, which they did every summer. It had outdoor advantages, so even though Rosarita had grown accustomed to seeing the things that happened in the gossip that swirled around she considered the trade well worth it.

Out here, she was lucky if she got any news from Monterey. She knew that Verdugo's venture had started bearing fruit, but just when the messenger from Los Angeles was due to arrive—surely it would be Diego!—it was time to leave for their summer home, as they did on the first day of June every year.

Out of Monterey, she was far away from the friends she'd grown accustomed to meeting. No more seeing Constancia on her trips through California, no visiting Leonar and those siblings of hers. No more coffee with Milana, or riding with Anna Maria. And _mamacita's_ tamales did not measure up to the Modesto's.

She groaned as she sat up, on the start of a new day six weeks later. It was too early, but her seven year old sister had pounced on the bed just five minutes earlier, telling her it was time to get up.

Her hair, bound in a tight braid, was quickly undone and Rosarita sat in front of her mirror, brushing it out, when Amelia entered. "Amelia, do you know why Mama has sent for me so early?"

Amelia chuckled, as she brushed out the dress Rosarita was to wear that day. "Your sister did not tell you? Your father is bringing a guest home from Monterey. He took Vincente with him, and Vincente came riding back to say your papa was bringing a guest. Now, hurry up!"

Rosarita wanted to crawl back into the bed, having long ago outgrown the urge to go straight outside in the morning. Once her routine had expanded to include hair styling and corset tightening, she had soon lost interest in mornings and always felt the urge to stay in bed until late morning. Or later.

Especially after yesterday. She'd spent the whole day chasing Dulce, named after her _tia _in Los Angeles, and preventing her from joining a gang of ruffians the seven year old persisted in calling friends.

Rosarita noticed what exact gown Amelia was holding. "Who is coming that Mama wishes me to wear that?"

It was one of her better gowns, not good enough for church, but not something you'd wear on a weekday. A delicate rose pattern swirled over it, and it required her corset to be laced another inch. As pretty as it made her look, sometimes it wasn't worth it.

Amelia clucked her tongue. "I was told not to tell you."

The hairbrush slipped from Rosarita's hand, clattering to the floor loudly. "Who?"

Amelia grinned. "Let me dress you, and perhaps, you will find out. Let's try something nicer for your hair, eh?"

Rosarita went downstairs, dressed the gray gown, arms bare. Amelia had denied her use of the shawl, something very unusual, and Rosarita went down to the patio in a bit of a huff, annoyed that no one would say who was coming.

Her family was already seated on the patio, all but her father, and she rushed to her mother's side. "How nice you look," her mother commented. "Stand straight, and turn so I can see your hem."

Rosarita turned quickly, causing Vincente to roll his eyes and Dulce to dart up from her seat and run over. "Mama, may I have Rosarita's dress when I am her age?"

"Of course, dear," Mama returned, calmly sewing. Ana-Carmen Cortez was rarely seen without sewing in her hands. Though she had married a don, they'd never been a wealthy family and Ana-Carmen had accepted her added duties calmly. Once a woman never seen in the kitchen, she now ruled over the domain with ease, and even now that they had added more servants, she still made breakfast every day.

Having been an old maid when she married, Ana-Carmen's family only boasted six children. Rosarita, at eighteen, was the second youngest, Dulce having been a surprise. In the time between the two girls, however, Ana-Carmen had buried three sons. Sometimes that showed in her face, when she let Dulce onto her lap, though she was much too old for such things.

Rosarita's hands went to her hips. "Why do you promise her such things? And who is coming that I am wearing an afternoon dress?"

Vincente choked on his coffee, and Rosarita's eyes flew to him. "You know, you must have seen him!" Picking up her skirts, she ran over to him.

"Now, Rosarita, we wish it to be a surprise. Don't worry, it will make you very happy." Her mother continued sewing, and Rosarita whirled around.

"Eat something before they get here," Mama urged. "It will not do for his first sight of you is during breakfast."

Aha! He must be a suitor! Realizing something, Rosarita plopped down with a groan. "It isn't Don Javier's son, is it? I don't like him."

Her mother just laughed, and handed Rosarita her plate. "Just eat these, and wait patiently. Your Papa still had business in Monterey, and so it will be midmorning before they arrive."

Standing, with a swirl of skirt and petticoat, Mama Cortez swept into the kitchen, Dulce following impatiently.

Rosarita concentrated on sitting up straight—her corset never allowed for slouching when it was laced this tight—and finishing her cup of coffee and the orange Mama had peeled for her.

Once finished, she left the table and followed her mother's path upstairs. "Mama, where should I be when Papa gets here?"

Her mother tilted her head, handing the book to Dulce, who she was teaching to read.

"Why not go into the sala? You will make a pretty picture there."

Rosarita giggled. "I'm not that kind of senorita, _mamacita, _and you know that very well. No one would ever believe that I just happened to put this dress on, and happened to walk into the sala and sit on the windowsill. No," she said, and shook her head.

"Why do they have to be fooled? Believe me, our guest should expect this kind of treatment."

"So he is a suitor?" Rosarita asked.

Her mother laughed, and took the book back from Dulce. "Well, we hope him to be. And I do think you will be pleased to see him."

Rosarita leaned to kiss her mother's cheek, leaving the room in a hurry, and going to the stairs at the back of the house, outside stairs that led into the garden. She held up her skirts to descend them, quickening her pace as she went. If her mother was feeling this giddy about it, he must be important.

A rose would make a nice picture, and it wouldn't be a false one. She'd always liked the outdoors, and flowers, and...

_Diego!_

* * *

Through the window to the sala, and through the other window to the patio, Rosarita could make out her father leading none other than Diego de la Vega through their gate. She forgot about the rose in her excitement, and flew to the door.

She could hear Diego speaking with her father, and turned from the door to run back to the rose bush. Her father's pruning shears lay beside it, as usual, and she quickly cut off a pink rose, returning to the door with a fluttering heart. Through the window, she could tell that Diego had been led into the sala, and her father had gone to fetch Mama.

So she turned the knob, and walked in.

* * *

She didn't know how she presented to Diego: her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was away from her face and piled high in such a way to emphasize her face. As old as she'd been in Los Angeles, she felt still older now, when Diego's eyes rose from a book he'd plucked from a bookshelf, and met hers.

She was beautiful in that moment. She knew she was.

Diego replaced the book, and walked to her, taking her hands and bringing the right to his lips, holding her left tightly. "I missed you, Rosarita. Even more than last time."

She noticed the look in his eyes, and a gasp of disappointment rose in her.

He'd grown up, too. There was the look of a broken heart in his eyes, and they didn't dance as usual. He looked tired, and though there was tenderness in the kiss pressed to her hand, there was no sparkle.

But he'd noticed how she'd looked. He'd noticed like he'd never noticed before, and he appreciated the dress and the bare arms. Rosarita had never felt more like a woman in that moment.

She was going to win Diego this time. Nothing and no one would stand in her way, not Zorro and not her own inhibitions.

And not the woman who'd stolen Diego's heart the time he'd been in Monterey.

The bond between herself and Diego went beyond palpitations and desire. It transcended such things, and she knew, in the core of her, that what Diego had felt for the woman who broke his heart wasn't truly love.

Love was this feeling, the true desire for Diego to have what was best for him. No matter what had happened in Monterey, Diego was here now, holding her hand as though it were a lifeline. She had never stopped loving Diego.

And she'd bet her life that he'd never stopped loving her.

* * *

"What have you been doing in Monterey all this time?" She asked, some time later. Her parents had returned just after her realization, and this was the first time she'd gotten him alone after that.

They'd gone out to the garden. Her mother sat in the sala, next to the window. Though she was sewing, Rosarita knew her eyes would be on them.

"I did realize it would be you bringing the money, but I'd have expected you to be long gone by now!" Rosarita continued.

Diego turned to her, surprised. "Do you mean to say you've heard nothing of my time in Monterey?"

She shook her head, bemused. "Should I have?"

"I'm astounded. I thought the rumors were flying! There was trouble," he said, noting her confusion. "There was a huge plot by Verdugo's servant to steal the money. There was quite a bit of, shall we say, intrigue."

Rosarita bit her lip to keep from chuckling. Diego was trying very hard to be oblique. She'd not spoil it for him.

"Did you really not intend to visit me?" She asked, hands going up to brush a petal off Diego's shoulder. He watched the action, then shook his head.

"I was so busy. Since you don't live directly in Monterey, I'll confess it completely slipped my mind."

"I'll forgive that this time. You must have had a lot on your mind."

Diego was walking slowly, hesitantly, so she darted in front of him and walked backwards so she could face him. "How did you like Monterey, Diego? I love it, when I am there."

"I'd expect you to like this rancho more," Diego said, spreading his hand to take in the view.

"I have grown up somewhat," Rosarita teased. "I no longer run through the hills."

"Are you sure? You did quite a bit of running the last time you were in Los Angeles, as I recall."

She shook her head, loving the easiness of the conversation, and hating the lack of depth. She'd have to try harder.

"What did you think of the people? I have quite a few friends, as you may expect. But I must confess I don't know who'd you would get to know. Please, give me some names, Diego!"

He laughed, a hollow sound compared to what it used to be. She almost winced before catching herself.

"Oh, just the usual. We knew most of them from when they visited Los Angeles."

Rosarita counted on her fingers. "So you saw Constancia and Leonar?"

"And the Verdugos, and the del Carmens. And you missed one visitor from Los Angeles, Rosarita." _  
_

"Who did I miss?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well, guess!" He returned. "I'm not going to help you."

She almost whacked his arm, then remembered her mother was watching and demurely lowered her hand. "I don't know, Diego. There were the..."

Her eyes widened. "Not Ricardo!"

Diego burst out laughing at the reaction. "Of course, Ricardo!" He boomed. "Who did you expect, a wolf?"

"He might as well be one!" She protested.

"You don't know how right you are," Diego replied, still laughing.

"But, what on earth was Ricardo doing in Monterey?"

"You know, I'm still trying to figure that out," Diego said.

She shook her head, nose crinkled. "Well, what happened? Did either of you succeed in killing each other?"

"No, but not for lack of trying. It even got to the point where I tried to lose him in the woods, but, alas, that didn't work out."

"What was the point of contention this time? Rope tricks, your father's wine or a horse?"

"A woman," Diego answered soberly. "Remember, we've grown up."

Rosarita's breath caught at his low voice. "What happened? With your other fights, the victor took the spoils so I'm assuming that Ricardo got the girl."

"Neither of us won her heart," Diego answered. "No, it happened quite differently than most affairs of the heart."

"Who was she? Leonar, Milana?"

"I don't want to spoil this with such things," Diego said. "I mean it."

"Did she break your heart?" She asked, only half teasing.

"No, I...I broke it myself."

* * *

In the afternoon, Vincente was persuaded to ride with them, as there was no other viable chaperone since Amelia could not ride.

Rosarita put on an older riding habit, aware of the trail she wished to take Diego on, and had Amelia arrange her hair into a high spiral of curls. They only just fit under her hat.

She skipped downstairs, and pressed her cheek against Dulce's when she spied the child sitting on the couch, trying to read. "Do you like Diego, Dulce?" She asked, pressing a kiss to her sister's forehead.

"Maybe," Dulce answered. "What is this word?"

"And," Rosarita said.

"Oh. And this one?"

"Be, Dulce. Why only maybe?"

Dulce slowly lowered the overlarge book. "Well, at dinner he was nice but he took the last churro stick."

"Oh...Would you like to come with us? You could ride the pony."

Dulce didn't even have to think it over. "Si! Do I have to change?"

"Yes, you would, but you don't have to hurry. We can wait for you."

She watched Dulce run up the stairs, smiling. It was odd to realize how old the girl was, and how this was the first time Diego was meeting her.

She turned, and saw that Diego had come in through the gate, in his riding outfit. "I'm all ready to go," he answered. "And it looks like you are, too."

"No, I invited Dulce to come with us."

Diego looked up, to where Dulce was just disappearing at the top of the stairs. "Ah," he said, and walked to the steps to sit down on the bottom one.

She looked at him, with his wavy black hair and long legs spread out. There was the usual languid grace, and now there was something else. She walked over to him, carefully stepped over his legs and joined him on the step.

"I was just realizing that this is the first time you have met Dulce. Isn't it strange that you entirely missed something that is so integral to my life?"

"Yes, it is," Diego said, leaning back on the steps. "But you missed happenings in mine, also."

"Oh, but that's not what I mean. I missed events, si. But this is a whole new person," Rosarita insisted. "It's astounding that lives get so far away from each other."

Diego looked up at her. "Astounding," he whispered back. Feeling odd, she stood and brushed off her skirt. Dulce was galloping down the stairs, dressed in her riding habit.

"Well, we're ready to go then!" Rosarita said, and gave her hand to her sister.

Diego followed behind them, and Rosarita could feel his eyes resting on her.

* * *

She took them by the ocean, and once there they could not resist dismounting and running into the spray. Vincente stayed on his horse, stubbornly ignoring their antics, while Rosarita splashed Diego and Diego splashed her back. Dulce ran among them, and Diego lifted her up when a particularly big wave came up.

Rosarita shrieked from the impact of the water breaking into her. "Mama doesn't usually let us go to the ocean on our rides," she told Diego, tightening her hat. "Not unless we have two dependable escorts."

"That's good of her," he replied. "And good for me. We can go here everyday!"

Rosarita nodded, took Dulce's hand and ran in from the water. She collapsed on the beach with her sister, and they watched Diego's antics, as he continued to mess about in the water.

"Do you like Diego now?" Rosarita asked, panting as she turned to face Dulce.

Dulce nodded, but then shook her head.

"What do you mean?" Rosarita asked, sitting up in indignation.

"It's still maybe!" Dulce explained, and Rosarita lay back down.

"Oh."

* * *

On the ride back, Dulce fell asleep while riding, and since Vincente had ridden ahead, deeming a seven year old girl chaperone enough, Diego dismounted and picked Dulce up. He considered placing her in front of Rosarita, or himself, but Dulce was sleeping so hard, he decided to carry her, and Rosarita dismounted to lead the two horses, and Dulce's black pony.

"You know, she calls this pony Funesto Huracán," Rosarita said.

Diego chuckled, surprised. "What an awful name," he reflected.

"I know. We all expected something like Bombón, since she named her doll Golosina."

"She has interesting christening habits," Diego said, and Rosarita nodded.

"She wanted to know if she could name the rose bushes. Papa said yes, and she named the pink one Desamor and the red one Rompecorazones."

Diego's eyes widened. "How do those work?"

"Apparently that is what will happen to you if you receive one, because men are never faithful. After that line, Papa said she couldn't name them after all, and demanded to know where she'd heard that."

Rosarita stopped, to better collect the reins in her hand. Diego saw the action. "Let me," he said.

"No, I'm managing. Just keep Dulce sleeping. If we wake her now, she will be as angry as a bear." Diego paused, torn, as Rosarita sorted out the reins and continued walking.

Diego matched her pace. "Anyway, Dulce had learned it from her amigo, as she calls him, a rag tag boy with a group of _pícaro _friends who are always hanging around her. We are trying to break her from the habit of playing with them, but since Mama decided to teach her herself, instead of getting a governess of some sort, then she escapes sometimes because of Mama's preoccupations with her other duties."

"She sounds like me," Diego said cheerfully.

"Si," Rosarita said wistfully. "She is just like you. Always running and shouting, and desperately begging Papa to let her learn to fence."

Diego shot her a sideways glance. "Do you still regret I didn't stay that way?"

Rosarita considered her words carefully. "I think it was a worthy trade," she said finally.

Diego looked cautious. "Trade? Eh, what for what?"

"Your childhood for your adulthood," she said. "It was worth it."

"I don't think you were of that opinion in Los Angeles," Diego said warily.

"I am now," she announced. "And here we are, home."

* * *

Late afternoon found Rosarita in the nursery, helping Dulce get undressed, since Amelia was busy elsewhere. Upon returning to the house, Diego had seen that Bernardo, his funny little manservant, had arrived from Monterey, with the luggage and a message from Don Alejandro.

Rosarita had sent the horses off, taken Dulce and left Diego to his privacy. Now she expected him to be in the guest room, probably bathing for dinner.

She finished brushing out Dulce's hair, and laid her into her bed, expecting her to sleep until dinner was served, and slipped from the room.

Her habit was caked with sand, she soon discovered, and her boots had sand everywhere, something she amazingly hadn't noticed while walking home.

Her hair had become frizzy from the spray, and she was thankful that she'd worn a hat that covered it.

Amelia entered, as Rosarita just finished taking off the wet clothes, and bustled to help.

Soon, the day at the beach was no more, and Rosarita was dressed for dinner in a light green dress with a tight waist, high neckline and short sleeves. Her hair was high on her head, and her skirts whispered, just like Mama's did, as she walked down the stairs into the sala.

Everyone was waiting there; her father and brothers, and Diego all jumped to their feet at her entrance. She shoved down the urge to laugh, took Diego's arm when her father took her mother's, and they walked in to the dining room.

"My father will be arriving tomorrow," Diego said, some time later as they enjoyed the meal. "He had some business that detained him, but he quite likes the idea of visiting here before we return home."

"That is good news," Domingo said. "I look forward to seeing him again. It's been, what, eleven whole years?"

"Si," Diego said.

"And what changes you bring with you," Domingo continued. "You went to Spain, saw the world, grew up while you did so, and return just as you always were."

"Not quite," Diego said. "Everyone would change in such a different environment."

"The change is quite good," Vincente said. "I like your mustache. How do you cut it, to get it like that?"

"Vincente!" Ana-Carmen scolded. "Not at the table."

Diego winked at Vincente. "Maybe later."

Her brothers all seemed bored by the conversation, which turned solely to the time Diego spent in Spain, as Ana-Carmen asked after relatives, friends and _celebridads _she had no connection to.

"And what about the Countess Ainara in Madrid?" Ana-Carmen asked eagerly. "Does she still live so opulently?"

Then she wished to know of the fashions, and at that point, when Vincente started to repeatedly roll his eyes, his mother whacked him with her napkin and dismissed them, leaving Rosarita with her parents and Diego.

"You know, Rosarita was so vague about her visit to Los Angeles. Is there something she wasn't telling us?" Domingo asked, when Ana-Carmen's line of questioning faltered.

"We've had troublesome times," Diego said. "You surely heard about those when Don Nacho came here."

"Monastario!" Domingo said. "That was his name, si?"

"Si. But he is gone, forever, I hope, and now we can focus on nicer things."

"Like love?" Domingo asked, and Diego's hand tightened on his fork.

"And friendship," he countered, cool eyes meeting Domingo's.

Rosarita could see how disappointed her father was, but of course he said nothing. The end of the meal came swiftly after that, and her father disappeared into his study and her mother went upstairs to see Dulce.

Rosarita led Diego to the garden. "Here, would you like a Desamor or a Rompecorazones?"

"Neither, by those names," Diego said. "Actually, I'd prefer a white one anyhow. I see they didn't gain a name under Dulce's brief reign."

"No, they didn't," Rosarita said, carefully clipping a bloom off. "Do you wish to carry it, or pin it to your suit?"

"I'll carry it," he said, so she carefully scraped the thorns off instead of trimming the stem.

"You know, it's rather chilly out here. Would you mind waiting for me to get my shawl?"

He bounced the rose from hand to hand. "Go ahead. Maybe you could send Vincente out and we can talk about mustaches."

She dismissed the words with a giggle, hoisted her skirts up and hurried up the back stairs. Once in her room, she walked to the wardrobe and plucked the red and white shawl from it, and it was there she froze.

Staring at the pattern, she remembered the other moonlit night, cast it away and instead took a creamy colored one.

Going back down, she placed a hand on Diego's arm. "You know, I'm actually feeling rather tired. Do you mind if we end this here?"

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I did mind?" He asked, kissed her hand and she could feel his eyes as he watched her leave again.

Once upstairs, Rosarita sat in her room alone, staring out the window at the night.

* * *

A/N: This story first takes a lighthearted tone. Diego is away from Los Angeles and all troubles with the Eagle and his blasted feathers. In Monterey, he was freer all along because they didn't know him so well. Diego is acting very carefree and sweet to Rosarita, and, in turn, Rosarita is both more childish—because this is her home turf, and she can afford to be—and more mature, because any way you look at it (the show or 'Smitten') her visit to Los Angeles changed her perspective on Diego.

This story will also be longer than its predecessors.

I've realized something while rereading this before publishing. Pretty much nothing in this story would be something that could actually make it into an episode, and Zorro won't show up for a while yet. But, I'm okay with that. Just thought I'd put that out there.

I'll note here that I actually don't find it very plausible myself for Diego,_ and_ Alejandro, to stop by the Cortez's rancho on their way back from Monterey, but you can never tell what will become of those 'chance meetings' in the plaza.

I also really like the idea of Diego going to Rosarita after the Amnesty debacle. He'd need that.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

* * *

"Mama, really?" Rosarita asked, and gasped as more air was sucked from her.

"I'd like you to wear it," her mother replied. "I want to leave a very good impression on Don Alejandro when he and Diego leave. I want him to talk about you to his son long after this visit ends."

"Maybe I do, too," Rosarita grumbled, gingerly feeling her corseted waist. "But that doesn't mean it needs to be laced this—tight!"

Amelia pulled one last time, and quickly tied the ends before dropping her hands to her side.

Ana-Carmen looked critically. "Your waist can be made smaller than mine," she said approvingly. "Now the dress. You are going to wear my best dress when I was your age. I've been reworking it for the past year."

"But Mama! I wanted to go walking or something with Diego today. That dress must be too fine for..." Rosarita trailed off when Amelia came back into the room, bearing a dress so fine Rosarita didn't dare touch it.

It was white lace, with long, tight sleeves, a heart shaped neckline and a very narrow waist that billowed into a full skirt. It was slid over Rosarita's head, then Amelia and Ana-Carmen worked to fasten it.

Rosarita looked at her figure in the mirror. Her hair still in curlers, she wasn't sure what the final affect would be, but she felt very feminine in this dress. Very feminine and very delicate and very confident.

She was ready to charm Don Alejandro. She'd always been able to do it before and this time would be no different.

* * *

"Don Alejandro!" Domingo Cortez was delighted that the rich don would honor their home with a visit, especially after all this time. "It is so good to see you. I hope the trouble you've had in Los Angeles is completely in the past."

"So do I, Domingo," Don Alejandro said, happy. What Rosarita first noticed about the stately don was the quiet smile he got each time he looked at his son.

_What has happened between them to prompt this change? _Rosarita wondered, puzzled but delighted to see the relationship repaired. She descended the stairs, making the entrance her mother had so desired, and Don Alejandro had a look of delight when he saw her.

"This can't be Rosarita! You look even more grown up than when you came to Los Angeles!" Alejandro turned to Diego. "Have you told her yet, how beautiful she looks?"

"Not enough," Diego said. "I intend to say it much more, and to make a habit of it." His smile, when looking at his father, was more contemplative, but it was obvious how much closer they were now. Upon Alejandro's arrival, Diego had gone out to meet him, and, using her point on the balcony as an advantage, Rosarita had seen their tight embrace when Alejandro dismounted.

Behind them, coming through the gate, was Bernardo, bearing packages. Ana-Carmen stepped forward. "May I direct your manservant, Don Alejandro?"

"No, he's mine," Diego said smoothly. "He neither hears nor speaks, so I should be the one to tell him."

"Oh, it is Bernardo?" Ana-Carmen said, and Rosarita didn't miss the brief flick of Bernardo's eyes to her mother. _Curious. _

"Si, how do you know him?" Alejandro said, as Diego 'spoke' to Bernardo.

"My daughter has mentioned him," Ana-Carmen said. "I apologize for the misunderstanding, but since he accompanied you, and not Diego..."

"Do not worry yourself over it," Alejandro said.

"Do you know how long you can stay?" Domingo asked, taking control of the situation.

Alejandro fingered his hat, a slight frown on his face. "That I do not know. I'd like to make a leisurely, long visit, but we have been away from Los Angeles for some time already. I think a week is all we can do right now."

"Seven days will be enough to make you at home here," Ana-Carmen said. "We must take you to our beach. It's lovely."

* * *

"You and your father seem to be on better terms now, Diego," Rosarita said softly, during that afternoon.

The morning had been spent in further catching up with the de la Vegas. It was now siesta hour, and, to Rosarita's knowledge, she, Diego and Amelia were the only ones up.

Amelia sewed in the corner quietly, unobtrusively. Rosarita and Diego sat on a bench, built into the wall of the sala, that was right next to the windows to the garden, which were open. A heavy, delicious scent of the roses wafted in, and Rosarita felt quite content, sitting there.

"Si, I suppose we are," Diego said, just as quietly. "Things have happened between us. We have reached an understanding."

"I'm so glad," Rosarita said, reaching out and brushing his hand with hers.

Diego nodded. "Of course you would be."

"You know, we've been talking so much of the news from Los Angeles, we haven't been able to speak about the Monterey happenings," Rosarita said. "You mentioned Ricardo was there, but you never elaborated."

"Why would I want to elaborate on Ricardo?" Diego asked and she couldn't help laughing with him.

"Surely, you must have had many escapades with him," she said, shaking her head. "Come, tell me. I know you said there was a woman involved. Who was it?"

"A gentleman shouldn't discuss such things with women of your inexperience," Diego said, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"Diego!" Rosarita said. "Don't be like that."

"I really don't want to talk about it!" Diego said, tone serious, but eyes still sparkling.

"Everything you did with Ricardo can't have involved a woman," she said.

"Maybe it didn't, but why the sudden interest in Ricardo?"

"He is the only one you will put a name to," Rosarita said, frustrated.

"All right," Diego said, throwing up his hands. "I'll start at the beginning. I met the Verdugos first, and saw them off when the situation was resolved. I helped a tamale peddler."

"Which one?"

"Theresa Modesto," Diego said. "What a woman she is!"

"Theresa?" Rosarita said, frowning. "Oh! Pilar's daughter."

"I assume, but I never met her mother," Diego said.

"Theresa is the third child, I think," Rosarita said reflectively. "A family of many children. I confess, I cannot put her face to the name. Pilar Modesto has six daughters, I believe."

"Theresa is the human cannonball," Diego said. "She's petite, but thinks she is as tall as me; beautiful but never cares, and the most empathetic woman you'll ever meet."

Rosarita nodded. "The human cannonball was all I needed," she said, giggling. "I did meet her once. Quite a lovely girl. But I don't think that is all there is to it."

"Joaquin Bastenado," Diego said. "He was Theresa's _galan. _Quite a hotheaded young man, and when the governor was away —and surely, you heard of Rico!"

"Oh, that is the situation," Rosarita said. "I do know of Rico. He was the tyrant, and Joaquin must have been the revolutionary. Father met with the Padres at the mission a few times over it, but I never heard more than that."

"Well, Joaquin was right in the thick of it, and, therefore, so was Theresa."

Diego leaned back against the cushioned seat. "It was a trying time," he said carefully. "I'm glad that it ended peacefully. The governor returned and he and Joaquin managed to reach a peaceful agreement."

"Extraordinary!" Rosarita exclaimed, drawing Amelia's attention. "That something so volatile as that could be peacefully resolved...Who was the miracle worker there?"

"I helped," Diego said, modestly. "And there were others."

Rosarita smiled widely. "How much did you help?"

"As much as I could," Diego teased right back. "I tried my best to get Joaquin to see sense, and I became quite the go-between for Rico."

"You always could negotiate," Rosarita said. "Oh, Diego. This is so much easier than it was in Los Angeles."

"Si," Diego said, voice fervent. He reached to briefly, tightly, clasp her hand in his. "Si."

* * *

Before dinner, as Rosarita dressed in her room, Dulce skipped in.

"_Hermana, _are you busy?"

"Not terribly so," Rosarita responded, saw the serious look on her sister's face and motioned for her to sit beside her on the bed.

Dulce hurried over, and Rosarita wondered at her sister's sudden eagerness to spend more time with her.

"How are things going with Carlos?" She asked cautiously, Carlos being Dulce's amigo. Son of Don Domingo's chief vaquero, he led the rest of his contemporaries in much mischief. Rosarita did not like him, but Domingo trusted his father and let Dulce play with them, over Ana-Carmen's and Rosarita's protests.

"Oh, he hasn't been by," Dulce sighed. "After being scolded last time."

"Well, he did almost drown you," Rosarita reminded, a tone of scolding creeping into her voice.

Dulce looked unsatisfied. "He did not," she grumbled. "And I did not come here to speak of him."

"Why did you come, Dulce?" Rosarita said, standing to mess with the skirt on her gown.

She missed the way Dulce's lips tightened at the motion. "We didn't go to the ocean again," she said.

"Of course we didn't," Rosarita said distractedly, moving to the mirror.

"You and Diego said we would go every day," Dulce reminded, standing up to follow Rosarita.

"Well, of course we won't be able to," Rosarita began. "He just meant it would be nice. We were much too busy to go today."

Dulce left without saying another word.

* * *

Don Alejandro came down from his _siesta _beaming and full of vigor. Again, Rosarita noticed the resumed closeness between father and son. They were almost finishing each other's sentences, and Alejandro was often casually touching his son, as if to reassure himself he was there, and this was happening.

The beach, it was determined, was not a trip that would be made today. Ana-Carmen wished to go, and she would need more preparation.

"We could make a picnic of it," she said eagerly. "Or even a whole day's trip. Cook outdoors, return to our roots."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Domingo said. "It has been some time since I have cooked and eaten a meal outside. I like that idea, I really do. Diego could even bring his guitar."

Rosarita's eyes met Diego's and they both were filled with laughter. "What a change in our parents," she whispered to Diego, edging closer.

"I know." Diego's grin was wider than she'd ever seen it. "I'll bring my guitar, you bring your dancing skirts."

"I don't dance like that," Rosarita whispered back. "But I think Dulce would be up for it."

Diego really had to restrain himself from laughing then, and his eyes shot to the little girl. "She and my father do seem to get along well," he said reflectively. "I think he is almost considering her as he would a grandchild."

"She has spirit," Rosarita said. "Much spirit. My mother let her have that because of the sons she lost."

Diego reached to squeeze her hand.

"Diego," Alejandro said, turning back to him. "What day do you suggest for the picnic?"

"Any day of the visit," Diego said. "Tomorrow is too soon, I'd expect."

"We'd need more time to prepare food," Ana-Carmen agreed. "Domingo, what do you think?"

"I will be busier in the coming days," Domingo said. "I think we'd better delay it to the end of the visit."

"Of course, I forgot," Ana-Carmen said, flushing. "You are having some difficulty?"

"Please, tell me it," Alejandro said. "I'm sure I can be of help."

"It's the market," Domingo said bluntly. "I have a whole herd I just can't get offers for."

"You have not been looking in the right places," Alejandro said. "Steers, I suppose."

"Si, of course!"

"I knew it! Don Ignacio, in Los Angeles, you remember the Torres; he has been looking for a herd of steers these past months."

* * *

As the conversation turned steadily to cattle, Rosarita went over to Dulce. "Do you want to walk outside, with Diego and me?"

"All right," Dulce agreed, her wide eyed attention to the conversation diverted. They walked outside, to the afternoon air.

"It's a beautiful day," Diego said. "Were it not for the hills, we could see for miles!"

"Can we go to the ocean again?" Dulce asked. "It was such fun."

Rosarita only had to look down at her dress to know the answer to that question. "Not today, Dulce. But as we were talking in there, we are going to make a whole day trip soon."

Dulce smiled at the notion. "I like water," she said happily, skipping ahead.

Diego turned to Rosarita. "Don't you think she's the perfect child?"

"In times like these, si," Rosarita laughed. "But I have seen her through too many tantrums to say perfect."

"All children get angry," Diego said. "Tantrums prove their perfection."

"That is what you learned in Madrid?" Rosarita teased.

"That is what I learned with you," Diego said, and Rosarita gasped.

"Diego, are you implying I threw tantrums?"

"I'm not _implying _anything," he said, her hands flew to her hips and the next thing she knew, she and Dulce were pursuing him through the garden, until Dulce managed to catch hold of his trouser leg.

"What did you mean by that, Senor de la Vega? If I were a man, I'd challenge you!"

"I can do it for you, _hermana,_" Dulce insisted, and Diego laughed.

"You know, how about this? How about I challenge this scoundrel?" Diego suggested.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Rosarita said, feigning haughtiness. "So I suggest the weapon to be water."

"Why, what do you mean?" He asked, truly confused.

"Go dunk your head!"

"Such sweet words!" Diego said. "But you still deny any tantrums?"

He only barely ducked in time.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

* * *

A/N: Where we have more of a focus on Dulce, and Diego recites poetry.

* * *

It was more than expected. The next day found Rosarita tending Dulce's sore hand.

"I told you to stop running around with those boys," she scolded. Dulce had again woke her up, very early this time. It seemed she had snuck out, at dawn, when her _compadres_ summoned her. She had returned, not much later, and woken Rosarita to tend her hand.

"Papa told me I could, I asked him before leaving. And I didn't mean to get hurt," she explained earnestly. "The plan was to jump over the big rock, you know, the one at the corner of the north pasture?"

Rosarita groaned. "Tell me you didn't," she pleaded.

"I thought you didn't like lies," Dulce said innocently, but Rosarita could see the mischief lurking in the back of her sister's eyes.

"I don't, so you had better not done it to begin with!"

"You could say I didn't," Dulce began. "Because I didn't make it. I couldn't even get on top. I jumped. then I fell, then I cut my hand."

"And you came to me, instead of Mama," Rosarita said. "And why is that?"

"Because if you can still try to hit Don Diego, I can be friends with these boys. And we never hit each other!" Dulce said fervently.

"Well, that's one thing to their credit," Rosarita muttered. "Do you really intend to keep it a secret from Mama?"

"Nooooo," Dulce said slowly. "But I'd like to tell her myself, when the time is right."

Rosarita looked into her sister's green eyes, eyes that had surprised them all. None of their family had had green eyes before now, and friends and strangers never failed to comment on her sister's striking color.

Sometimes Domingo joked, and said his father was Irish, but everyone knew that wasn't true.

"Tell her yourself then," Rosarita agreed. "And know that you can come to me anytime, even when I am fast asleep and dreaming!"

Dulce's eyes lit up at her sister's promise. "You know that I will!" She chortled, and darted from the room.

Rosarita threw a pillow after her, noticed the sun coming through the window, and decided there was no reason _not _to get up at this hour. She might even bump into Diego.

* * *

She didn't meet Diego, but she met his servant, Bernardo, on the stairs. Smiles were exchanged, Rosarita noted that Bernardo was looking rather serene, and she shrugged before continuing down.

Don Alejandro sat on the patio, reading a letter he'd just written.

"Hello, Don Alejandro. Buenos dias," Rosarita said.

"Buenos dias, Rosarita," Alejandro said.

"This switches our roles," Rosarita said. "Now I am the hostess."

Alejandro chuckled. "Si. Just let me finish this letter."

"Of course," Rosarita said. "Who do you write to, if I may ask?"

"Ignacio Torres, to tell him of your father's herd," Alejandro said. "And others. I have been away from Los Angeles for the longest period in fifteen years."

Rosarita smiled, sat down across from him and waited for him to finish. The morning was bright, and wet with dew. She reached a hand out to sole rose bush that was on the patio, and the petals were still damp. They had opened, though, bright orange roses. She considered picking one, then withdrew her hand.

Across from her, Alejandro was shaking the letter to dry the ink, then folded it closed. "I think that is all I need to write this morning," he said cheerfully. "This is a beautiful, peaceful morning. I hate to waste it. The mornings just were not like this when we were staying at the inn in Monterey."

Rosarita smiled. "Visitors often say how peaceful they found our rancho. We take great pride in the early mornings."

"Your father inherited, or did he buy it when you moved to be close to your grandmother?" Alejandro asked.

"Inherited," Rosarita said. "But the hacienda hadn't been lived in for years when we moved here. The vaqueros tended the land, but the house had been empty since Grandmama had to move into Monterey."

"Were there cobwebs and ghosts awaiting you?" Alejandro asked.

"No, but there was a family of squirrels in the master bedroom," she said, and they both laughed. "There was quite an array of animals leaving in or near the house. I think there was even a fox, as strange as it sounds."

"Where was he?" Alejandro asked.

"He was staying just outside the wall of the patio," she mused. "He never went inside, that I would know of. But we'd hear him at night."

Alejandro was silent for a moment, then Rosarita heard steps, looked around and saw Diego coming through the gate.

_How interesting. We were just speaking of a fox that stayed outside the patio. _

"Diego," Alejandro greeted. "You are up early. I didn't realize that."

"Very early, father," Diego said. "Buenos dias, Rosarita."

She nodded. "Where did you go, Diego?"

"The ocean," Diego said simply. "Seeing the water calmed me."

No one asked the question of why he'd need to be calmed, and even Diego seemed to regret the words.

Above them, footsteps heralded Vincente's entrance. "Buenos dias," he called. "Don Alejandro, my father asks if you'd like to ride with him today, as he looks over the rancho."

Alejandro exchanged glances with Diego, and they both smiled. "I think I'd like that," he said. "Where is your father?"

"He has already left," Vincente said. "He went straight to the stables. If you'd like to join him, he'll be in the north pasture for the next few hours."

"I should go prepare for that," Alejandro said. "Diego, do you think you could see to getting these letters mailed?"

"I could do that," Vincente interrupted. "I'd love to go into Monterey."

Rosarita nodded. "Vincente lives for trips to Monterey."

"Just let me finish up, then," Alejandro said.

Rosarita stood up. "Well, I'll leave you to that." She smiled at the table, and walked to the sala, hoping that she'd find Dulce in the garden.

* * *

Diego was waiting for her, after lunch. "I thought we could go for a walk," he said. "I'd like to get a real tour of your rancho."

"Who'd go with us?" Rosarita said. "I'd love to go, but Amelia has duties right now and Vincente is still in Monterey."

"What about Dulce?"

"Alone, she could not be a suitable chaperone," Rosarita said. "Maybe my mother would..."

"You could ask her," Diego said. "Here she comes now."

"Mama," Rosarita said, turning around to see Ana-Carmen coming from the sala. "Would you chaperone us? Diego wants a tour of the rancho."

Ana-Carmen's face lit up. "Of course! And I can bring Dulce, also. You will be walking?"

"Si," Diego said. "We have done our riding."

Ana-Carmen gathered up her skirts. "I will change to something better. Wait, just a few minutes. Rosarita, could you find Dulce?"

"Of course, mama," Rosarita said, and started to the sala. "Do you want to come with me, Diego?"

He smiled and headed forward. She slipped her hand through his and pulled him with her into the sala. "Where are you going to look?" Diego asked. "Does she have a special hiding place?"

"As a matter of fact, she does," Rosarita said. "But I don't think she will be there right now. I'm just going to the kitchen. Right now is usually when she harasses our cook into giving her something sweet."

"She is called Dulce," Diego said. "I suppose the name suits her well."

"Too well," Rosarita told him. "Come on."

Dulce was in the kitchen, and Rosarita gasped when she saw her. "Dulce! What happened?"

For around one of the child's brilliant green eyes was a ring of black and green. "She just came to me like this!" Monique said, her voice full of panic.

"It was my fault," Dulce said. "It wasn't the boys'. I did it."

"Why does that ring so false?" Rosarita asked, flying forward. "Dulce!"

"It doesn't hurt much anymore," Dulce said. "Not very much."

Diego stepped forward. "Dulce, you have to tell us what happened."

Dulce shook her head.

"If you ever want to see those boys again, you must say," Rosarita demanded.

Dulce pulled away from them. "It's none of your business," she cried, angry at last. "And I will not tell you!"

With that, she fled the kitchen. Rosarita made to run after her, but Diego grabbed her by the arm at the last second. "Maybe now is not the time to talk to her," he said gently.

Rosarita yanked her arm away from him and ran back to the patio. Ana-Carmen was just coming down the stairs, and she immediately halted when she saw Rosarita. "What has happened?"

"Dulce has a black eye," Rosarita explained. "And she won't say how she got it."

* * *

Dulce refused to even speak to her mother about it, and in the end Amelia was left to watch her while she napped, for the child was exhausted.

Ana-Carmen, bearing a parasol, walked steadily along with Diego and Rosarita, her face set. "The picnic will be in two days," she said. "I've arranged everything, even a day off for most of the servants."

"Don Domingo will be able to come?"

"Si, he can miss one day," Ana-Carmen said. "It's not quite that busy right now."

Diego surveyed the land, turning on the spot with his hand shading his eyes. "You have a beautiful rancho."

"More beauty than product," Ana-Carmen said, rather deprecatingly, realized what she'd said and hurriedly changed the subject. "Diego, you said what kind of trouble the Verdugos were in, but you never said how they got out of it. _Santos, _it must have been very hard after Don Verdugo was taken. How did they manage?"

"There were many contributing factors," Diego said. "The army was no small one."

"Oh, just the army?" Ana-Carmen said, disappointed. "I could have sworn one of my friends mentioned Zorro. But speaking of the fox, what has he been up to lately? Rosarita came back from Los Angeles just filled with tales of him."

"He has been a rascal," Diego said. "That's is definite. Uh, he's not a subject Rosarita and I agree on, so maybe it is best not to mention him."

"Of course," Ana-Carmen said soothingly, turning to wink at Rosarita. "Rosarita also said you know some poetry now. Can you think of anything suitable for this moment? And you also write your own! Please, give us a sample."

Diego was tongue-tied, obviously struggling. Rosarita was about to say something when he cleared his throat. "This is one my compositions," he said. "But I usually sing it to the tune of an old ballad."

_I bring all my songs to a flower  
And lay all my dreams at her feet  
I know that she an admirer  
But he cannot be as in love as me  
My dreams are dashed  
She goes away  
But I know I can win her  
Another day_

Diego finished, a faint blush on his cheeks. Ana-Carmen remained silent.

"That's lovely, Diego." Rosarita commented, for though the style had been plain and almost childish, he had spoken it in a tone of passion. The subject was near to his heart.

"And quite personal," Diego said. "But it has been dwelling in my mind for some time now. Here, let me try again. This one does not rhyme.

_The man is a mystery  
__No one can deny that  
__But all admire him  
__Who ever see his figure_

_Yet they do not know him  
No one can say they do  
All love him  
No one knows the truth." _

Diego finished again. "That is about the outlaw Zorro," he said. "A poem I thought of one night when he rode close to my hacienda. He remains a mystery to all."

"I know something," Ana-Carmen said. "He shares your name, Diego."

"Oh, Garcilaso de la Vega?" Diego said.

Ana-Carmen cleared her throat. "This is a poem whose meaning is very personal to me."

_More at times are better ears_  
_pure wit and tongue almost mute,_  
_Witnesses clean innocent mind,_  
_eloquent curiosity._

_I can not remove the pain_  
_feel, if it at all_  
_first I do not lose sense._

_With you hand in hand_  
_seek other pastures and other rivers,_  
_other flowery and shady valleys,_  
_where rest, and always I can see_  
_before mine eyes,_  
_without fear and dread of losing._

"Domingo introduced me to Garcilaso," she said slowly. "And that poem of his has stayed with me throughout my whole married life."

* * *

At dinner, Alejandro and Domingo were exuberant. The day had been good for them, and Alejandro had very much enjoyed seeing the rancho.

The mood for Ana-Carmen, Diego and Rosarita was quite different. Ana-Carmen had been very quiet after the walk, Diego had a fretful look of worry in his eyes, and Rosarita was still thinking of Dulce.

Vincente, Domingo and Alejandro carried the conversation, barely noticing their companions' silence. Midway through, Rosarita just couldn't stand it any longer and stood, causing all the men to jump up with her.

"May I go, mother?"

"Of course," Ana-Carmen answered distractedly. "I think I am done, also."

They left together, Ana-Carmen going to her room and Rosarita drifting on the patio.

The day had started out well. But the mood had changed very much, and Rosarita wasn't sure what to think of Diego, or her mother.

* * *

A/N: The first two poems are original, obviously only I could write something so bad. The first is a mix between the song he sings to Elena and his unresolved relationship with Anna Maria. She denies him as Diego, but he knows that as Zorro, he could capture her heart fully.

The second was random. But what else is a subject near and dear to Diego's heart? And I do think it fits his bookish side to write something about Zorro. Had he not been Zorro, I think the outlaw would have intrigued him anyway, perhaps even more so.

The third, as Diego said, is by Garcilaso de la Vega, and it is (very roughly) translated from the Spanish version found on wikipedia. I was looking around for a suitable poem, translated this via google, and knew I had to use it, if only for the first line of the third stanza.

_With you hand in hand..._

A Spanish poem written by a Spanish poet, and it was just so perfect for my series. On that note, I'm going to edit the first chapter of Hand in Hand to put it in. (Check it out.)


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

* * *

_Rosarita was spinning, flying..._

_Her hands were tight in Diego's and he just kept turning. She could see his face, beaming at her, and then darkness descended on the dreamworld. A black horse appeared, and his rider was the most beautiful woman Rosarita had ever seen. _

When Rosarita woke, she was scared of how accurate her dream had been, for it portrayed the two things she worried about most.

* * *

The whole atmosphere of the day was different. It was very hot, and very quiet. Dulce was confined to the nursery as punishment, and Diego and Alejandro had had some business to do, and now occupied Papa's library.

Rosarita sat in the shade and wilted. She didn't expect anything of the day, and as it passed into afternoon, she gave it up for lost.

It was a carriage that changed her mind. She stood to see who it was, then went to the gate to greet the guest.

"Rosarita!" Milana cried, leaning from the carriage. "Join me, please!"

Rosarita nodded eagerly. "Of course, Milana. Just let me tell someone."

When she returned to the carriage, Milana was waiting impatiently, and had the man start as soon as Rosarita jumped in.

"I've missed you," Milana said. "I've missed talking to you. I always loved your bluntness."

"Gracias," Rosarita laughed.

"What I really want is your opinions on Anna Maria, of course, and the offer of amnesty."

"Amnesty for Anna Maria? What on earth do you mean? She isn't an outlaw."

Milana's laughter was contagious, and soon both were giggling. "No, no. Zorro!"

Rosarita remained puzzled. "What about him?"

Milana's laughter ceased abruptly. "You've heard nothing?"

"No, not until Diego arrived a few days ago and he has said nothing about Zorro."

_He's not a subject Rosarita and I agree on, so maybe it is best not to mention him._

Rosarita's hands clenched without her realizing it. He'd been concealing things all along! And she thought they'd gotten so far...

"Wait, Diego is visiting you? How strange. The de la Vegas gave the impression they were going straight to Los Angeles. Ricardo is on the warpath, trying to find Diego."

As intriguing as that was, Rosarita ignored her last line. "Yes, the whole family. But please start at the beginning. What about Zorro and Anna Maria?"

Milana was now the puzzled one. "Diego hasn't told you a thing?"

"Gossip was never his forte," Rosarita sighed.

"All right, I'll begin!" Milana said. "Why, it started when Diego arrived in Monterey. No, when the soldiers came after him, bearing the pesos from Los Angeles. Uncle Gregorio went out to meet them, and Zorro rescued them all; soldiers and my uncle!"

"Zorro?"

"And then they departed, Uncle Gregorio and Anna Maria. Oh, it is such a fantastic tale. The soldier riding with them, to guard them, he was an imposter! They had only ridden until sundown when Zorro appeared, and vanquished him. And, oh, it's too romantic. He kissed Anna Maria!"

Rosarita felt like something very hard, cold and sharp had suddenly been plunged into her stomach. "On the hand?"

"No, silly. A real kiss!" Milana sighed. "There was a Don Romero also accompanying them. They all went back to Monterey, Uncle Gregorio was kidnapped and Zorro had to convince Anna Maria to not pay the ransom. She tells me he was in her room! Then the next day, there was showdown with the kidnappers. I'm not sure what happened there, but Don Romero ended up dead, and Zorro kissed Anna Maria again! Then he rode away on his big, white horse—"

"White?" Rosarita asked, startled. "But Zorro has a black horse!"

"Maybe in Los Angeles," Milana said slyly. "But not in Monterey. Anna Maria went with Uncle Gregorio to the coast, and she saw him off. But she decided to stay in California after all, came back and stayed with me. This is where it gets really good. She met Don Ricardo del Amo—do you know him?—and it turned into a love triangle. No, quadrangle?" Milana looked puzzled. "It must have been a quadrangle. All three men, Ricardo, Diego and Zorro, were in love with my cousin! Zorro gave Anna Maria a ride on his white horse, Ricardo was almost hanged and then dueled Zorro, and just a few days ago...

Ricardo convinced the governor to give amnesty to Zorro, if he appeared in the pueblo at the Angelus hour."

"Did he?"

"Si, but no. He arrived after it ended and swept Anna Maria away." Milana slumped. "She won't tell me what he said. That's why I had to talk to you. You met him. What do you think he would have said?"

There was a lump, steadily increasing in size, in the back of Rosarita's throat. Milana was waiting expectantly. "Come on, what would he have said?"

"That California needed him too much," Rosarita finally whispered. "The Zorro I knew had no attachment to one person. He was the protector of all California."

* * *

Milana left soon after, not staying to greet the other members of the Cortez family. It was only after that Rosarita realized she'd failed to ask why Ricardo was on the warpath after Diego, for Diego had given the impression that Ricardo had left before him.

But then, why on earth would she still trust Diego? Rosarita wondered. Why on earth, after all he'd hidden.

No, this was too much.

Too, too much.

* * *

Dinner was to be a cold meal, and something that Rosarita wasn't sure she would attend. As the time of the Angelus hour drew near, she felt increasingly sick at heart, and didn't want to see Diego.

_No, no no no no. _

She remained in her room, lying on the bed, not risking anything, until a tap sounded and Amelia entered.

"It is dinner time," Amelia said. "What are you doing still up here? And why have you closed the curtains?"

"I don't feel well," Rosarita said, and her voice was choked. She hoped that aided the impression of illness. "I have a stomach ache and my throat hurts." _And both are true._

"Do you think it is serious?" Amelia asked, hurrying forward, and Rosarita rolled over to face the wall.

"No, I just ate something bad, I suppose," Rosarita said. "Please. Just tell Mama I will not be able to come down."

"All right," Amelia sighed. "But I don't like this."

Only after she left did Rosarita let herself cry. Tears she'd been holding in for hours just spilled out, until her pillow was a soggy mess and her throat hurt even more.

She heard footsteps creeping in, and felt a small hand on her back.

"_Hermana?_" Dulce whispered. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rosarita choked out.

Dulce tried to get closer, to embrace her sister, but Rosarita shook her off.

She heard soft footsteps leaving her room, but couldn't bring herself to care.

* * *

Evening drifted into night. Rosarita had no thought of sleep, and through her open window the conversation from the dining room occasionally drifted up. They were speaking of business, of friends, of churches.

No one mentioned her name, and the conversation never halted because she wasn't there.

The ache in her heart increased. What made her think she could ever be a part of the de la Vega family? They had never needed her; she'd just needed them and thought the feeling mutual.

Lying there, Rosarita wondered about Anna Maria, and what it was about her that caused four men to fall in love with her. _Romero, Diego, Ricardo, Zorro. _

Or three.

Was Romero just pretending? Milana had seemed to think he was, later in the conversation.

_What is it? Her hair, her eyes? Her skin, her figure... Her clothes? Manners? What does she have that sets her apart from everyone else in California? _

Her hand went up to her mouth and she started biting her nails, a habit she'd been forced to outgrow years ago. Now she couldn't stop herself, and before she knew it, all her nails were short and torn, and her fingers ached where she'd gone too far.

She jumped from the bed and ran to the door, then turned back. _What am I even doing? Mooning over a man? There was a time I thought marriage intolerable, even if it would be to Diego. Now I know it won't be, and further, I don't want to marry. Why should I? What benefits would come to me that I don't already have? Position, wealth, children..._

The answer came to her so sharply, obviously that she crumpled to the floor and just sat there, silent tears pouring down her face. _Love. I want Diego to love me. I always have._

* * *

At midnight, Rosarita remained awake, sweltering from the heat of her feelings. She had changed into her thinnest nightgown, and still felt feverish as she tossed and turned, got up and paced to the door, and then returned to bed, afraid.

Why did it have to be Anna Maria, such a good friend? Why did Milana have to come today to tell her? Why couldn't she have waited until Diego was gone?

Because if Diego was gone, Rosarita's heart would already be broken.

With shaking limbs, she crept from the bed and to her wardrobe. She took a wrapper out and tied it around her.

She wasn't going anywhere with trying to sleep. Instead, she left her room.

The hallway outside her room overlooked the back garden. Rosarita crept down the stairs, shivering a bit when the wood ended, and her feet touched cold marble.

Above her, the moon shone coldly. Inside her, her heart throbbed.

She continued on, ignoring the beautiful sight her father's rosebushes made in the moonlight, and went straight inside to the sala, then redirected her steps to the kitchen.

Once there, she carefully and quietly poured herself a glass of steaming water, from the kettle that always remained hovering over the fire. Into that, she stirred tea, a random blend that was nowhere near Moneta's English tea, and half-heartedly sipped at it.

It was horrible, and her throat refused to let her swallow anyway. She spat it back out into the cup, then poured the cup out into the scrap bucket.

She almost ran from the kitchen, back to the garden, and then she decided something. Her next action was opening the gate, not going up the stairs.

* * *

Her bare feet touched the dirt road, cool in the night. She seemed to become a child again, used to running outside at night to catch_luciérnagas. _She remembered going out at night, clutching her father's hand, as they hunted for various things. Once, they'd ridden for a doctor together.

As a young child, she remembered being glued to her father's side, and riding with him sometimes all day as he went about their smaller rancho in Los Angeles.

When she'd discovered Diego, she'd stopped being quite so close to her father, as her days had been spent playing games.

And after Diego, once in Monterey, she'd grown close to her mother as she became a young woman. And then there was Dulce.

Rosarita walked on into the night, her feet taking her to the ocean and ignoring all sensibilities. She was going to the ocean, and nothing was going to stop her.

She remembered the words of Moneta, said about Don Francisco's daughter, Magdalena.

_She seemed to simply be following Diego's lead. _

Rosarita realized she was doing the same thing, and Diego had led her on a merry chase. A chase that ended in heartbreak.

Rosarita walked on and on, the length of the journey reminding her of the reason they usually rode to the beach, but the walk was all worth it; the pain was all worth it when the beach came in sight. When she saw the moon, resting over the water. Two moons, for it was reflected.

When she saw that moon again, and it brought back memories of 'that' night, she sat down and cried.

* * *

She realized, suddenly, that she'd been sleeping and darted up. It was hours later; the moon was gone and the sun was just peeping over the edge of the sky.

Rosarita felt something stir in her, Diego was momentarily forgotten, and instead, she ran into the waves.

The water soaked her, soothed her.

She felt restored, and was able to reason.

Diego had never made a promise to her beyond that if there was no one else, they'd marry when they grew up. As much as it hurt her to think of him with Anna Maria, it was his choice and definitely not a deliberate betrayal.

Though she'd spent most of the night on the beach, and even now she was caked with sand and salty water, she felt more in tune with herself, Diego, and the world than she'd ever been before.

* * *

A/N: A pattern that I have noticed in my writing is a need for my (Zorro) heroines to have self-discovery, self-reliance. Journeys where they had to cast off, in private, social restrictions and could become their own woman, something they all had to learn before the story ended. Yes, Zorro entered into that, and so did Diego. But primarily, _Far Longer, To Madness_, and all of the stories in my Rosarita collection, have been the women's journeys into finding (as cliched as it sounds) themselves.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

* * *

Rosarita exited her room the next morning to the sound of raised voices on the patio.

After her night at the beach, she'd come back at dawn and fallen asleep again. Hours later, she'd since bathed and dressed, and now ventured from her room for the first time.

It was her own house, her home. But she was hesitant to leave, and even if Diego didn't owe her anything, and what happened while he was in Monterey was not her concern...

She didn't want to speak to him. That much was clear to her.

The voices were getting louder as Rosarita walked closer, until she was overlooking the patio and saw a man standing, tall, tan and lean, over Diego, who sat at one of the chairs.

"I was intending to leave," the man said. "But things changed. My hair, for instance. What are you doing here in the first place? I thought you also had to leave."

Diego shrugged. "How could I leave without visiting an old childhood friend?" He asked, a glass of wine perched carelessly in his hand.

The stranger started to pour his own wine, but Diego reached out and placed a hand over the decanter. "Not right now, _mi amigo,_" he said, and the man scowled.

"Still keeping everything good out of my reach?"

"You are not their guest," Diego said. "How could I, in good conscience, give you their wine?"

"Whose wine? Milana said the Cortez hacienda and gave me directions, but who lives here that you know?"

"Rosarita," Diego said.

Rosarita waited for the words to sink in. "Who?" The man asked, and in that moment Rosarita recognized him.

"Me," Rosarita said, coming into view by descending the staircase. "And I can still beat you in a footrace."

"Well, who cares about that?" Ricardo asked, actually confused. "_Madre di dios_, how you've grown up." He said, almost whistling in admiration.

"_Madre di dios_, how you haven't," Rosarita returned tartly.

"And that's where you're wrong," Ricardo said, reaching to take her hand to kiss. She gracefully drew it away, sitting next to Diego.

"What are your thoughts about the situation with Zorro and his offer of amnesty?" Ricardo asked her. "Do you think he was a fool not to take it?"

Diego, looking panicked, tried to stop Rosarita from answering, but she ignored the motions he made.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's any of my business," Rosarita said. "As a matter of fact, neither does Diego."

At that, Diego's gaze shot to Rosarita, and fully realized the meaning behind her cool tone and impassive voice. He flushed, and turned away from her again.

"Why do you not remove your hat, Ricardo?" Rosarita asked, looking at Diego.

"Ask Diego," he scowled.

"I'm asking you," she said coolly.

"Because our mutual friend decided it would be fun to shave a bald spot in the middle." Ricardo took off his hat, just for a moment, and Rosarita saw the patch of bare skin.

"What possessed him to do that?"

"I heard a rumor of a nasty prank Ricardo had intended to play on me," Diego said, and now his tone was as cool as Rosarita's. "And because it wasn't fair to force Zorro and Anna Maria into that situation. I think he deserved that comeuppance. You can't keep meddling around. It was not your right to convince the governor to offer it."

"I'll tell you this, Diego. That situation had to come to an end, that's all there was to it. I wasn't going to go home to San Francisco, and let you go home to Los Angeles, with Anna Maria still undecided."

"Why should she decide?" Diego burst out. "What is she deciding? Why is marriage a choice she must suddenly make? We were just friends, Ricardo, whether _you_ believed it or not. All three of us, just friends during that time. I was not_ asking_ for more."

Rosarita remained silent, surveying the two men, who talked as though they'd forgotten her presence.

"I could have been more," Ricardo said. "You could have been more, had it not been for Zorro, who I readily call a cad for leading her on with no intentions toward her. His not coming proved that."

"Zorro does not exist for that purpose," Diego said, his fists clenching. "I may not know him as well as you think you do, but I know that whatever possessed the Fox to take up his mask was not a woman. It was much more than that. To force him into that corner made him pay a price he shouldn't have had to."

"You speak of him so familiarly," Ricardo said. "I thought you'd be glad to have his true colors revealed. By the way, why weren't you waiting with us?"

"Maybe I heard of you and your messenger's plan just in time," Diego said. "Maybe I didn't want my reputation sliced to pieces, like you did with Zorro's."

"Why get so passionate?" Ricardo said. "And why shave my head?"

"Your lack of hair is far from permanent," Diego spat. "But Zorro's choice is very permanent."

He stood up, his chair almost falling backwards from the force of the motion. "_Con permiso, _Rosarita. I don't want to stay here any longer."

He went to the stairs, stalking up them with a straight, unmoving back.

Ricardo stared after him. "Huh."

Ana-Carmen entered from the sala, and halted when she saw Ricardo. "Rosarita, we have guests?"

"He was Diego's guest," Rosarita said. "Mama, this is Ricardo del Amo. Senor del Amo, this is my mother, Ana-Carmen."

"Oh, Ricardo," Ana-Carmen breathed. "I did not recognize you."

"I am somewhat taller than I used to be," Ricardo said. "And handsomer, I'd hope."

Ana-Carmen giggled. "Si, both," she said. "_Bondad! _Are you staying for the night? Oh, no, we don't have a room..." Her voice trailed off, and a flush appeared on her cheeks.

"Do not worry about that, Senora Cortez," Ricardo said. "I came to see Diego, I saw him, and, well, I should be going. I was supposed to already have left for San Francisco."

"Oh, of course," she said. "It was lovely to see you again."

He bowed, as she hurried up the stairs. Rosarita walked Ricardo to the gate, and stood there while he adjusted his saddle, then turned back to speak with her.

"I ask you to, uh, forgive my actions as a youth," he said, eyes dark. "I did not know, then, that you would grow up to be such a pretty woman."

"Would that have changed things, then?" She asked, letting his eyes linger on hers without moving.

"No," he said, and chuckled, letting the mood lighten. "It was wonderful to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, but, you see, I was brought up to tell the truth," Rosarita quipped.

His face darkened momentarily, and she quickly amended the statement."It was nice to see you, too, Ricardo. Ignore that."

"I will have no trouble doing so," Ricardo said, eyes gleaming, and, to her utter shock, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, like a brother would and yet not like a brother would. He took his time straightening up, and Rosarita felt his breath on her cheek long after he had.

"It is in recognition of our earlier, um, friendship, if you could call it that," Rosarita began. "That I didn't slap you for that."

She could still hear his laughter hours after he'd left.

* * *

The day dragged on. Rosarita found herself spending time with Amelia, doing simple sewing and trying to ignore the thoughts swirling in her head.

Dulce was still confined to the nursery. Ana-Carmen herself took meals there, and tried to convince her daughter to open up.

She remained stubborn, and refused to say anything.

Around mid-afternoon, Diego wandered into the sala, and quietly approached Rosarita.

"May I speak with you?" He asked quietly, his eyes flicking to Amelia.

"Of course you can," she said pertly. "There is a seat, right there."

After a moment, he nodded and sat down in the chair nearest to hers, obviously unsatisfied with the arrangement.

"I don't know how you...know," Diego said slowly.

"Milana came by, on a ride, yesterday," Rosarita explained, not looking at him. "She wanted my opinion of it, since I'd known Zorro in Los Angeles. Obviously, she had to explain the whole thing for me to understand."

Diego nodded, satisfied with the explanation, but still uneasy. "Our vow," he became uncertainly. "It was not meant to be permanent, was it?"

"I thought it to be," Rosarita said, turning her sewing in her hands. "But it was always just if, if we got that chance." She looked up, and let her eyes meet his. "We didn't, Diego. And I accept that."

With an almost sob, Diego wrenched the sewing from her hands and took them into his own, bringing the right to his cheek and just holding it there.

"I'm not as strong as I thought I'd be," he said, clutching her hand. "I thought decisions would come easier to me when I was grown. But, Rosarita, it's so hard."

"Anna Maria disappointed you," she observed.

"No, because she'd never promised anything," Diego said, drawing her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "That was what hurt the most."

"Love is not something you can promise," Rosarita said. "That's what I have learned. We have changed, Diego. Things just cannot be the same anymore."

"What if I said I wanted them to be?" Diego said, looking at her intently.

"I would not believe you," she replied. "Maybe you want it back for the simplicity but your feelings are not the same. And they do not have to be. I remain willing to just be your friend, as much as it may have disappointed me."

* * *

Dinner was interrupted by a maid running into the room. "Pardon me," she gasped. "But Senorita Dulce is gone from the nursery."

After a period of interrogation, during which they learned she'd searched everywhere in the hacienda, the response was immediate. Domingo, Alejandro, Diego and Vincente immediately pushed back their chairs.

"We'll find her," Domingo promised his wife. "She cannot have gone far. Perhaps just to the north pasture. We should be back within the hour."

Ana-Carmen nodded, anxious but not really worried. Dulce had played these kinds of tricks before, just never when she was being punished. She bade her husband farewell, and Rosarita watched them leave.

They walked straight to the stables, not even waiting for their horses to be led out. Even if the probability was that Dulce had snuck away, there was also a darker possibility that gave haste to the searchers.

"I talked to Diego today," she began without preamble. "Mama, if you were hoping for an offer from him, just know that it will not be forthcoming."

Ana-Carmen bit her lip. "Why say that?" She asked.

"He fell in love with someone while in Monterey," Rosarita said wearily. "His feelings for me do not remain, as mine do for him. It is not marriageable love anymore, Mama."

Ana-Carmen sighed. "It would have a been a good match for you to make."

"I know."

"Beyond romance, Diego was a good catch," she continued. "But I should have known better than to expect Don Alejandro's son to marry a Cortez."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rosarita asked, incredulous. "Don Alejandro's pride does not extend to that. And Diego is his own man."

Ana-Carmen shook her head. "The de la Vegas are too grand a family for us," she said. "And I should have known that."

* * *

Dulce ran from the hacienda, to her amigos that waited at the foot of the hill. She could see them all: Carlos, Hernando, Tio, Leon.

As she approached, sneaking through the dusky air, she saw them hurry away suddenly. As she watched, they were leaving, running from the house. She could hear the shouts and knew what game they played.

She sank to the ground, too disappointed to continue following. This was the third time in too many days that she had been excluded.

Well, if they wouldn't wait for her, she wouldn't wait for them. She remembered a plot of theirs, to go to a hidden pasture they'd once discovered, and spend the night there.

She'd do it without them.

She didn't need them, after all. Like Rosarita was always saying, they were just _picaros. _She'd go without them. She'd go without anyone.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

* * *

Dulce was still not found. The riders returned at dawn, without Ana-Carmen's precious daughter.

Rosarita had stayed up all night, for news. Ana-Carmen had not thought the worst, and so she'd retired as usual.

But when dawn came, her mother came creeping into Rosarita's room, and embraced her older daughter. "Vincente brought news. They have seen no sign of her."

Rosarita shivered in her mother's embrace. "No sign? At all?"

"He said they inquired to the boys' parents. The boys have been inside all night. They did not come fetch her, and have not seen her," Mama said dully.

Rosarita could feel the fear emanating from her mother.

She'd already lost children, but those were to natural causes. Rosarita wasn't sure how her mother would react if Dulce wasn't found, or worse, was found...

She abruptly broke off her morbid train of thought. "Did they go to the beach?" She asked.

"Vincente said everywhere," Mama whispered. "Pray with me."

* * *

Breakfast came, and brought a white-faced Domingo back to the hacienda. "I just need something to eat," he muttered, trying to push past to the kitchen.

"No, Domingo, is there nothing you found?" Ana-Carmen cried.

He shook his head, unable to speak, and instead took the first food he saw.

Rosarita hung back, terror choking her throat.

While her parents tried to speak, she flew from the hacienda and along the road that led to the beach.

* * *

"Diego, I know this is not my place, but have you considered..." Alejandro trailed off, then awkwardly traced a 'Z' in the air, as Bernardo would do.

Diego was surprised that his father would know to do that, but then remembered that his father had 'known for a very long time'.

"I do not see what Zorro would do in this situation that we could not," Diego said. It felt so strange to be casually discussing Zorro with his father! Strange and relieving.

"Well, suppose someone did take her," Alejandro said, shifting in the saddle. "Zorro would instill terror in their hearts much more easily than you or I."

"Well, suppose someone didn't," Diego said. "Suppose she walked into the ocean, and Vincente, or worse, Rosarita, sees Zorro sweeping the ocean _with no reason to be there._"

Alejandro opened his mouth, then closed it again. "It is your choice," he began gently. "But I still feel that Zorro has something on his side that we do not. At the very least, a faster horse."

For Phantom had been hidden in a cove off the beach. Bernardo tended to him twice daily, and Diego had exercised him once while they'd been there.

"Speed could be no asset," Diego said.

"It might be," Alejandro said. "Domingo decided before going home to start covering more ground. I planned for you to go as far as Santa Clara."

Diego's jaw was set. "Fine. Zorro will ride. I will send Bernardo to you."

Without further notice, he turned his horse around and galloped, heading back to the hacienda.

* * *

Rosarita ran along the path to the beach, and when she reached the sandy shores a huff of air escaped her as she sank to her knees, trying to regain breath.

Surveying the length of the beach, she could see no figure. She wondered whether a body would have come in on the tide yet, then again tried to clear her brain of horrible thoughts.

_No, no, no. Dulce will be all right. Dulce will be fine. Madre di dios, todos los ángeles y santos, help her. Help us find her._

Rosarita ran further to the water; she crashed through the waves to look behind the rocks lining the shore. Panic was choking her as the salt water soaked her skirt and she struggled back to land.

She reached her hand up to wipe away her frantic tears, and grasped the sodden skirt firmly in her fists as she climbed up the opposite side of the beach, to look more for Dulce and not return to the house.

Her heart was beating so quickly, so loudly, she could hear nothing else.

* * *

_El Zorro_ searched the shoreline, astride Phantom, and soon was flying across the beach and up towards the Cortez hacienda. He honestly didn't know where to look; he wished Rosarita to be there and guide him to where her sister would go.

The thought took him aback. He wished Rosarita to guide him.

He thought that over a few minutes, as his eyes flew across the horizon in search of a little girl.

_Isn't that true? Diego, tell the good Senor Zorro. How true is that? _

He ignored the little voice inside of him, refusing to let it sway him in his search.

_You want Rosarita, as a guide, as a helpmate._

_What does Senorita Verdugo matter?_

_Could she ever be to you what Rosarita once was, that day on the bank of Don Nacho's stream?_

The landscape was pastures, and Phantom leaped one fence into the southern pasture. Zorro searched all the nooks and crannies, going to the farthest corner of the fenced land in each direction.

There was no flutter of color, no flash of lace or windblown hair. Zorro felt bile rise in his throat and he was suddenly very fearful of what could have happened to Dulce.

A little girl wandering the road could be picked up by anyone, man or beast.

And if she'd been walking along the water...

* * *

It seemed she'd been running for hours, and now Rosarita stumbled into a place she'd never seen before.

One moment she was charging up a hill, the next she was in fairyland. Wonder overtook her, and she halted. The whole grass seemed to be covered with flowers, and it was all she could do to not sink down on her knees and just breathe everything in.

Huge trees sheltered the land from prying eyes, and Rosarita wondered how she'd ever missed it.

Then she heard a neigh, pounding hooves. From a corner of the hidden valley, a white horse charged.

She glanced forward, and suddenly saw a flash of pink linen, white lace and dark curls, curled up on a rock.

_Dulce! _

_But who was the man astride the white horse?_

_Why was he here?_

Rosarita's heart pounded as she struggled to her feet and tried to reach her sister before the man did.

But then she remember Milana's words, and her tired brain realized that the figure wore black.

_Zorro rode a white horse now!_

Rosarita ran forward with a gasp, relieved beyond all measure.

Zorro was leaping from his horse and gathering Dulce into his arms. In moments, he was up again, cape streaming behind him.

Rosarita wondered how she'd ever mistaken him for a bearer of evil.

She ran forward more, saw that Zorro was preparing to go and called out.

"Senor Zorro!"

He turned his horse almost immediately, and when he saw her standing there, something like lightning seemed to pass through Rosarita.

His big horse was galloping towards her, in moments he passed her and swept her up with him. She was perched on the barest side of the saddle, his arm was the only thing keeping her there. She struggled to adjust herself, and saw that Dulce was not awake.

"What is wrong with my sister?"

"I think she only sleeps," Zorro replied, slowing his horse just a fraction so that Rosarita could wiggle around to the back of him. Her skirt was riding up, but she didn't notice as they kept riding, heading towards the road.

Behind him now, she clutched at his shoulders and tried to rise to look at her sister, but Zorro shook off her efforts.

"You are going to unbalance me," he said, keeping pace. She reluctantly sank back down, and instead leaned into him, letting her head rest on his back.

He was so big, in this moment. Larger than life, heaven sent and wonderful. Her hands dug further into the material on his shoulders, trying to keep him there with her, though her brain didn't realize it.

The Cortez hacienda was coming into view. Zorro was slowing, and at the gate his horse halted.

"Wait there," he said, and she shifted back so he could dismount, cradling Dulce. She had woken up, and now stared at the man holding her.

"Buenos dias, Dulce," he whispered, and her eyes widened. He set her down, then turned back to her sister.

Rosarita had swung her legs over to one side, preparing to dismount but Zorro was there, with every intention of helping her.

_To let him would be a slippery slope,_ Rosarita realized, and slid to the ground moments before he reached her and he halted.

"Thank you, ever so much, Senor Zorro," she said, meaning every word.

Something seemed to change in him. Something seemed to strengthen. His shoulders straightened, and he seemed even taller than before.

Rosarita smiled at the change.

* * *

Inside, Dulce was cooed over and embraced.

Riders were sent to recall the other searchers, and, in time, everyone had made their way back to the hacienda.

Rosarita started at the remembrance that they had been going to have the picnic that day. She felt a tinge of disappointment it hadn't been possible, but brushed it away in the wake of her relief over Dulce's safety.

Everything was good. Life was once again bright and wonderful.

So why did she feel so depressed?

* * *

After dinner, a boisterous meal that Dulce had been allowed to stay up for, Rosarita wandered to the patio. No one was there, her parents had gone to bed early with the expectation their guests would do the same.

Rosarita sank down in one of the chairs, a sigh escaping her.

"A centavo for your thoughts?"

She looked up to see Don Alejandro joining her, and smiled at him.

"Buenas noches, Don Alejandro. It's a lovely night, isn't it?"

"Si," he said, looking up at the starstudded sky.

She sighed again, feeling tired, and Don Alejandro looked at her quizzically.

"Does something trouble you?"

"Maybe," she admitted, and he leaned forward in his seat.

"Would talking it over with me help, if only to get it in the open?"

She smiled again, a faint twitch at the corners of her mouth. "It's about your son," she confessed, and he nodded.

"He is lost to me," she confided. "He fell in love with Anna Maria Verdugo while in Monterey. From the moment he came here, I had no chance with him."

"There was a chance," Don Alejandro said. "I saw him with Anna Maria, and I saw him with you. _Querida, _there was a marked change."

"How do you mean?"

"In his eyes, maybe," he continued. "Or his bearing. But with Anna Maria there was always tenseness, the question of whether he'd win her heart making him feel strained. When he looked at her, all sorts of feelings would just flow from him, of love and desire..."

Alejandro trailed off, a bit embarrassed at his frank words. "But with you, there was comfort. With you, he could be happy and carefree. With you, he could let his feelings show and not regret it."

"He hid many things from me," Rosarita said.

"But for different reasons," Alejandro replied. "I know my son. You are a better match for him than he knows."

"He'd have to know, though, if he were to choose me," she said and stood up. "No, I have accepted it. Diego will go back to Los Angeles, and I will stay here."

"That does not mean anything final," Alejandro said, standing with her. "I still hold out hope that you will be the one to..."

She smiled, and took his hand briefly. "Gracias."

* * *

A long, long time later that day, and into the night, Rosarita walked down to the garden and wasn't surprised to see who was there.

"Diego," she said.

"I was hoping you'd come down," he began. "I didn't dare expect, but we'll be leaving so early tomorrow there will only be time for goodbyes."

Rosarita nodded, and walked forward to sit in the chair opposite his.

"Diego, I can't deny it," she said. "I do still love you."

"I'm sorry," he said, fervently. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"You aren't," she said. "You never disappointed me."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "What about back in Los Angeles?"

"Oh, Diego," she sighed. "Things were different. I was uncomfortable there, after all that time I had expected things to be the same. But one of the first people I saw was you. And you were different. Not just grown up, but you were false."

"How do you mean?" He asked, tense.

"There was something to you that wasn't, well, you," she said. "You didn't feel true, anymore. There were layers and layers to you that I could not see and it frustrated me."

"Rosarita, there is something I must explain," he said.

"Don't try," she said.

Her hands clutched the sides of her chair, the pain keeping her conscious through her swirling thoughts.

"I just grew up." Diego began. "You must believe this, Rosarita. If there was a chance for me to regain you, I would. If there was a chance to fall in love with you all over again, erasing those things that stand between us, I'd take it. Maybe that's what I was trying to do this whole visit, I don't know!"

"What do you know?"

"That you would still be the first woman I'd choose to marry," Diego said. ""But let us face the truth. I am not getting married!"

"Don't you think I've realized by now?" Rosarita said, angry again.

"What?"

"That this is the 'again' you spoke of," she whispered. "The 'again' whispered by a masked man on a moonlit night."

Diego stared up at her from where he sat, hunched over in his chair. "Rosarita," he whispered.

She nodded.

Then Diego was standing up, running to her and pulling her to her feet. Without a word, he kissed her.

Truly, madly, deeply.

When he pulled away, she swayed on her feet for a moment, before smiling and laying her head to rest on his chest. His hands came up to cradle her head, and she felt him pressing desperate kisses on the top of her head.

After a moment of cherishing Diego, Rosarita looked up.

"I thought women were supposed to have stars in their eyes after being kissed," Diego teased. "You are looking at me so forthrightly, not hiding your face or seeming the least bit shy."

"I've been waiting for that all my life," she told him warmly. "Am I really supposed to be shy now?"

* * *

After a moment, reality seemed to return to them. Diego's arms loosened around her enough that Rosarita recognized what he was doing and stood up.

"I'm still going back home tomorrow," Diego said. "As much as I hate to say it...this didn't actually change anything concrete."

"I know," Rosarita said. "But it changed more than enough. I...I'd wait for you."

Diego jumped to his feet, eyes dark. "Can I ask that of you?"

"Why not?" She said. "It surprises me to say this, Diego, but for the first time in perhaps forever, I'm not considering Los Angeles my home."

Diego was quiet.

"All my life, ever since we moved to Monterey, I had always thought of Los Angeles as home. Here, this rancho, it was just a stopping point. Any day now, Papa would announce our return to Los Angeles, you'd come looking for me, my uncle would need me there. That is how I used to think of here, and of what home meant to me." She turned to face him. "I'm not thinking like that anymore. Los Angeles is my past, and, perhaps eventually, my future. But Monterey is my now. You can leave, Diego, and I will not wilt away waiting for you."

She stepped forward. "Can you understand that? I also realized if you'd asked on this visit..." She sighed. "The best answer would be no. You could not fully give your heart to me right now."

Diego took the hand offered him. "I agree. I regret it, but..." His eyes were warm. "But how do we leave this, verbally?"

Rosarita just smiled, her eyes twinkling with unshed tears. "Can't we just say that our old promise still stands?" She whispered.

"I will be collecting," Diego vowed.

* * *

A/N: First of all, I don't believe in endings.

Second of all, I flat out hate them. I cannot, _have never_, written an ending to any story that I published on this site that fully satisfied me. Maybe that's because you can't really write an ending for a TV show.

And it just felt so incredibly false to just give Rosarita a reveal, kiss, wedding. I _tried_, but the whole concept just seemed untrue to the person Rosarita is.

So that means this is not the end. I intend to write another chapter, (at least!) but as I finished this one, I felt like Maud Hart Lovelace when she completed _Betsy's Wedding. _Fully intending to write more, when she wrote her last words, she suddenly felt that that was enough.

I feel like that right now, and I just don't 'have it in me' to write more at this time. In a few months, inspiration _will_ overtake me again and I can tie those loose ends up.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my little series featuring Rosarita. It was truly a joy to write.


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